Artful Persuasion
by Lucifer's Garden
Summary: Jayne is neither stupid nor weak, and he's pretty sure he ain't gone soft. So just how in the hell did some crazy little girl manage to sweet talk him into this one? One shot, pre-Rayne fluff, post BDM


**Firefly and everything affiliated with it belongs to Joss Whedon, the show's creator. **Just a little something I whipped up during a much-needed break from exams! Lord, how I missed writing these two.

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_**Artful Persuasion**_

Bridgeburn, New Hall. Why Mal had decided to park the ship in the middle of nowhere for their impromptu vacation, Jayne could not even begin to comprehend. There were no bars, no decent places to eat, no cinemas, and the mercenary was fairly certain that any brothels one _might_ encounter would not be worth his time and hard-earned coin (if the unfortunate-looking locals were anything to go by).

Nobody else seemed to be complaining, though. New Hall was known for its natural beauty, particularly the eastern continents, and was a popular camping destination. Marked by rolling hills dotted here and there with forests and valleys, it certainly made for a decent place to at least stop for a picnic.

Well, Jayne was pretty gorram sick of picnicking. It was going on four days now, and nobody seemed all that keen on packing up and getting back to the Black for some real work. Mal and Inara kept disappearing on their long walks, trying not to look like they were up to anything in particular, even though they likely weren't in the first place. Zoe had done nothing but sunbathe on the nose of the ship since they first landed (not that Jayne had been spying on her, of course), and Simon and Kaylee had been alternating between cozying up in their bunk and lounging around in the grass, kissing and laughing and being all kinds of obnoxious. River seemed to be having the time of her life. All day long she could be seen scrambling about, climbing trees, swimming, catching frogs and creepy crawlies, reading, drawing, and painting to her crazy little heart's content. In all the time he had known her, Jayne had yet to see her look and act so very much like a child. It was disconcerting how easily one could forget that she was really a government-trained assassin with a mind unlike anyone else in the 'Verse, especially when she had her hair all done up in pigtails and kept running around barefoot. She was only eighteen, after all.

Despite the popular theory, Jayne was not a lazy bumpkin. He tended to get antsy during prolonged periods of, well . . . nothing. He was used to action, or at least the promise of action. True, he had enjoyed a couple days of fishing, playing cards, working out, and playing the guitar, but he was of the opinion that these simple pleasures in life ought to not become too commonplace. Were that to happen, they would soon lose whatever it was that made them so rewarding in the first place.

The sun was finally starting to go down, after another long day of sitting on his backside with not a clue as to how to pass the time. He had already cleaned and polished his vast arsenal of weapons. He had spent a good hour lifting weights. He had played cards with the captain and Simon (and whooped them good, even with Mal's predictable attempt at cheating). He had gone around to check his traps, hoping for some fat rabbits and finding jack squat. Then he had tried fishing, but it had been the middle of the day, and the bastards weren't biting yet.

Sighing, the merc decided to head outside to enjoy the sunset while finishing off his last cigar. Maybe inspiration would hit him and he would find something else to do come nightfall.

Trudging out of the cargo hold, he pulled out the stogy and lit it up, striking the match with ease born from years of experience. His pa had given him his first smoke at the ripe age of eleven, but addiction had never run in the family (contrary to what most people believed regarding his penchant for alcohol). Cigars were a luxury, not a necessity. Jayne was always mindful of that, especially when money happened to be tight – which, to be fair, was not all that often these days. Thanks to the considerable street cred they had acquired in the wake of the Miranda scandal, _Serenity_'s crew was fairing better than ever. It was no wonder the captain had been hankering for some time off. Since the incident with the Alliance, job offers had been pouring in left and right, with no discernible gaps in between. Not that Jayne had ever complained. This was the kind of career mercenaries dreamed of, after all. With River's talent for sniffing out scams and untrustworthy folk, they almost never got stabbed in the back or taken by surprise, so he could sleep at night as well as enjoy steady pay.

The little psychic in question was outside as well, waist-deep in the lazy estuary the ship had settled alongside. Her flowery skirt was hitched up and tied in a knot to keep it from trailing in the water, her hands poised at the ready just above the liquid surface. Utterly motionless, appearing as little more than a shadow against the sinking sun, she could have fooled anyone into thinking she was just some statue, a forgotten work of art. Jayne approached the bank and paused to watch her, puffing away and waiting.

In the blink of an eye, her hands plunged into the water and reemerged victorious, a thick silver trout writhing in her grasp. After admiring her catch for a few seconds, she gently slipped it back into the stream and watched it disappear. Jayne could have guessed that she of all people would be able to snatch a fish up with her bare hands as though they were just floating by. He had seen her inflict extraordinary damage with barely a fraction of her true potential. Bad men falling around her like dominoes, broken and bloodied up and not understanding how it had all happened. Still, it was hard not to be impressed by the graceful precision of her movements, even after all this time.

"We can cook 'em," he ventured, speaking around his cigar.

River shook her head, her eyes already wandering for a new target. "Can't."

"Why not? That was a fat son'vabitch. Probably tons more."

Her fingers splayed out at the ready, having sensed another unsuspecting trout nearby. "Tiny heartbeats, precious little hums and blurs. Can't snuff them out. You think they can't feel, but they do. They know."

Jayne snorted. _Yeah right._ "You've had meat before. Never complained then."

"Dead on arrival," she countered evenly. "Postmortem flesh is empty."

Well, she had him there. Shrugging to himself, Jayne went and sat at the base of a nearby tree, dragging deep from the cigar. There was really nothing else to do. Might as well watch the moonbrain waste a perfectly good supper.

By the time dusk settled in, he counted eight catch-and-releases, all exacted with the same clean calculations. River examined each fish before letting them go, as though hoping to find some sort of anomaly in their uniform scales. Knowing her, she probably thought of them all as being unique and special, with their own histories and thoughts. She really thought they were beautiful. Jayne could see it on her face, the way she cradled them. Like she had ruttin' diamonds in her hands.

At long last, she began wading out of the estuary, untying the knot in her skirt as she went. Jayne quickly averted his gaze, but not before catching a glimpse of her gleaming thighs. _Eighteen indeed_. Those were not little girl legs anymore, but he definitely could not afford to be looking, much less thinking about them in any such fashion. The captain would have a thing or two to say about it, not to mention Zoe and the doc, and, well . . . everyone.

She sank to the ground next to him, a respectful distance away but still close enough to be somewhat intimate. His cigar was seconds away from going out, and he was looking forward to the excuse to get up and head back inside. Not that he needed an excuse to get away from her, really. He could just as easily tell her to scram. He ought to. It was annoying having her there, drying herself off with the material from her dress, smelling like water and sweet grass.

"A bargain," she said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. He really needed to start being more careful with them, especially in her presence, and especially when they happened to concern her.

He blinked. "What?"

"A bargain," she said again, more emphatically. "You assist me, and I tell you a secret?"

The merc took one last drag from the stogy before squashing it against the bark of the tree and rising to his feet. "Pass."

"A secret about a crew member. Folks think the most interesting things, when they believe nobody is listening."

That gave him some pause. Jayne was perhaps a little bit too fond of gossip, especially where his more guarded crewmates were concerned. It was always fun to get a bit of dirt on somebody who was in the habit of trying to be as dirt-free as possible.

Feeling his resolve already slipping, he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine, deal. What am I 'assisting' you with?"

Her answering grin would have been heartwarming were it not so triumphant. She held her arms out to him in a universally recognized gesture, wiggling her fingers for extra measure.

"Ah hell," Jayne groaned. "You sayin' you want a gorram _piggyback ride?_"

She nodded, still smiling.

"Uh-uh. No ruttin' way. Jayne Cobb ain't nobody's pack mule."

The smile disappeared.

"_Jien ta duh guay. Go hwong tong!_ The ship is twenty feet away!"

A pout formed.

"What if somebody saw? I ain't plannin' to get kicked outta atmo any time soon! The cap'n –"

Her bottom lip started quivering.

"I," he began, and then stopped. "You . . . this ain't . . ."

"Just to the ramp. Please?" she implored, her voice sounding small and on the verge of tears. "It's an _awfully_ good secret."

Why, why, why did she have to have the biggest, brownest eyes in the damn galaxy?

Jayne glared down at her for a full five seconds before his posture slumped in defeat. "Okay. But!" he warned, not wanting her to get too excited. "Only to the ramp. And it damn well better be worth it."

"_Xie xie, puhn suh!_" she exclaimed, suddenly devoid of any strategically timed tears.

He reached down to pull her up, grumbling, "And I ain't yer friend."

Swinging around onto his back, River wiggled into a comfortable position and slipped her arms around him. With her breath suddenly tickling the back of his neck, Jayne tried valiantly not to think about her legs squeezing on his sides, and the fact that he had to position his hands underneath them to keep her upright. They were warm and firm and smooth, and distinctly eighteen years old, and _–_

"Onward, noble steed!" she cried, throwing cold water on his thoughts.

He scowled and started on a quick march back towards the ship, now boasting a few lights through the windows in the onset of evening. Fortunately, nobody happened to be looking outside at the moment. "Told you girl, I ain't no mule."

"No," she deigned in a placating tone, " a knight's warhorse, a stallion! Charging into battle, banners aloft."

The reluctant mount could not help but preen a little at the image presented to him. It was slightly more appealing to be referred to as a stallion, he grudgingly reasoned. Hell, it wasn't the first time either.

"Yes," River cooed, "a stallion indeed."

Her hand dipped lower to run across his chest, as though instinctively seeking out the scar she had left way back when. It was very, very difficult not to be wholly aware of her palm exploring his muscles. Jayne's breath hitched his throat, and he coughed to get it unstuck. She respectfully withdrew, but he had the oddest feeling that she was laughing at him somehow.

The end of this little humiliation could not have arrived any faster in the mercenary's mind. Finally reaching the foot of the ramp leading up to the cargo hold, he quickly deposited his lithe young burden back on two feet.

"Now," he growled, "what's this fancy secret o' yours?"

"The secret," she began in suspense, before poking him in the gut, "is about you."

"Me?" he spluttered. "What the hell kinda secret've I got that I don't know about?"

River gave him a self-satisfied grin before going up on her toes and planting a kiss on his cheek. "You are a complete sucker for big brown eyes."

And with that, she twirled away and up into the ship, leaving him slack-jawed and barely able to move.

_Swindled by a damn crazy girl_, was all his mind could stammer._ There'll be no living with her after this . . ._

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_Jien ta duh guay. Go hwong tong!_ – Get lost. Enough of this nonsense!

_Xie xie, puhn suh!_ – Thank you, friend!


End file.
